


A Parent's Intuition

by ovr4tee



Category: Clear Skies (Star Trek)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:21:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24782230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ovr4tee/pseuds/ovr4tee
Summary: After receiving a short, somewhat cryptic message from his son, Eoqtt, who is serving aboard the brand new USS Ross, Ambassador Vaman Qhlat asks around for some questions. This brings him an answer, but is it one he likes? Or can trust?





	A Parent's Intuition

The Ambassador sat in the armchair in his bedroom, PADD in hand. Across the room, a shape under the bedclothes shuffled about in the queen-sized bed, making themselves more comfortable. The Bolian woman in the bed suddenly became aware of the light in the corner of the room, and she sat up, looking over at her husband, who was still awake and apparently working.

"Aren't you done with that stuff yet, Honey?"

The Bolian turned in his chair, and looked over at his wife.

"Of course not!" he replied, with a smile. "An Ambassador's work is never done."

She sighed in faux exasperation. Both laughed.

"It will be, one day. Then you and I can go back to Bolus and settle down to retired life. Endless days of lazy brunches and growing herbs and flowers. Just like we've always talked about."

"Hm. Sounds nice," he replied, wandering to the picture window in their bedroom, gazing out over Paris. "Sometimes..."

"Yes?"

"Sometimes, "he continued, not averting his gaze, from the metropolitan scene below, "I want to just run away and do that, right now. This..."

The ethereal notification sound from the ubiquitous computer chirped at him and the familiar, soft, well spoken voice spoke.

"Diplomatic Priority Two message incoming."

"Priority Two?" he questioned, out loud, shooting a glance at his wife, a puzzled look on his face.

"Eoqtt?" she replied, as he headed back over to his small desk to retrieve the PADD.

He picked up the PADD and saw that it is, indeed, from their eldest son, deep in the outer reaches of the Beta Quadrant.

"A mother's intuition," he exclaimed, waving the PADD, with a smile.

"Hopes he's not in trouble, already," she replied, positioning herself on the end of the bed, as her husband sat down beside her.

The man's fingers flashed across the LCARS display, entering the long code needed to confirm his identity.

"Identity confirmed. Ambassador Vaman Qhlat, Starfleet Diplomatic Core."

Immediately the LCARS was replaced by the familiar image of their son, Eoqtt, looking well turned out in his Starfleet uniform, but with a serious look upon his face.

"Father," Eoqtt's face became scrunched a little at the forehead, as if he is trying to remember the words of a long forgotten conversation. "Unusual orders," he continued, after a short pause, "Starfleet compromised?" The look of concern softened a little, as he signed off with, "Love you all."

The message ended and the PADD chirped.

"What the hell?", says Vaman.

"Play it again. Did we miss something? Why is he sending such a short message over a Diplomatic channel?"

"Hm. He looked concerned, and diplomatic channels are more secure than most of the other secure subspace channels that Starfleet uses. He must feel like something is amiss."

Vaman played the message again, but it didn't help them understand. After a brief pause at the end of the second viewing, he stood up, walked over to the wardrobe and started to change.

"Vaman?" his wife asked, as she stood up and headed across the room to help him.

"I don't think he is in trouble, Ciasa. He would have just said so, but I need to find out what is going on with the Ross. You go back to bed. I'm going to catch a few of the night owls around here, see if I can get some straight answers from some discreet enquiries. I'll be back in a couple hours, at most. The major legwork will wait until morning."

The couple kissed and Ciasa made the final adjustment to her husband's white ambassadorial uniform.

\----------

The Ambassador sat at a small table in one corner of his office. His gaze in constant flux between his lunch - consisting of the usual selection of charcuiterie from Au Sanglier, baguettes from Au Levain d'Antan, a couple of patisseries from Aki Boulanger and a large glass of iced Bolian mineral water - the PADD in his left hand and the view over Paris. He wasn't enjoying this lunch as much as usual, nor the view of Paris. The lack of activity on his PADD saw to that.

He had tried every avenue he could think of to find out what the Ross' orders had been, but no-one was talking. The best response he had gotten, so far, was from an old friend in the Starfleet Admiralty, but all she would - or maybe, could - tell Vaman was that the Ross was on a classified mission that had come down from a top Admiral. He wondered which one, but daren't ask any more questions.

As he took a bite of one of the patisserie he had picked up off the plate just as his PADD lit up with the Starfleet logo. Underneath it displayed the caption:  
FROM THE OFFICE OF ADM. NALLAS RHEE  
PRIORITY ONE

He hesitated for a fraction of a second, in trepidation, suddenly worried that the shit was about to hit the fan, as the Humans would say, before giving his security codes to the PADD. On the small screen was the Benzite face of Admiral Rhee, whose blue-hued skin reminded Vaman of his own.

"Ambassador Qhlat."

"Admiral Rhee."

"Vaman. The Ross and its crew are fine and on a mission above your security clearance. Nothing more, nothing less. Rhee out."

The screen abruptly closed, redisplaying the LCARS. Vaman sat back in his chair, taken aback by the short shrift he had just received. This, he could tell, was a lot more than the usual Benzite manner. HE knew that this was the end of any further enquiries. But now he was a little more concerned, with a dread feeling that maybe Eoqtt was right.

He tapped on the LCARS and started a new message, finally replying to the one he had received the previous night, from his son.


End file.
